Chicken Blood
by mandaree1
Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed Edd n Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**Author's Note: First Werewolf AU!**

**(story title subject to change)**

**...**

One did not simply break into Rolf's backyard and expect to leave with all of their limbs intact. He knew that, knew it well, even, but desperate times called for even more desperate measures.

He'd tried the neighboring farms, but had been shooed away by terrified horses and old men with rifles filled with granite shots. The same with the odd farm truck that had happened to stop by, only with a dog involved. Ow. He was exhausted and out of options and had nothing really left to loose.

Unless, of course, you counted his tail, but he didn't give it much thought. One of the perks of having animal blood running through your veins was that you thought of the gain more than the loss, just like most animals.

In the daylight hours he knew he would regret not coming up with a plan and endangering both life and limb, not to mention his friendship with the foreign boy, but right now that didn't matter. What mattered right then was the smell wafting up into his nostrils.

Chickens. He grinned ferally.

_Perfect._

Hopping the fence, he landed on the ground and crouched, ears tilting to and fro to detect any movement from the house. His scent was masked, he'd made sure of that, but Rolf would wake up from a dead sleep from noise, not from smell. One could never to be to careful.

Nothing. Good. If he were careful, it might stay that way for awhile yet.

The cow munching grass regarded him with a familiar air as he crept across the lawn on all fours, not the least bit intimidated. He knew the cow had a name, it was on the tip of his tongue, even, but he never could quite remember names when he was in this state. Not that he could _say_ them even if he _did_ remember.

But that was okay. Lord only knew what kind of strange things he'd be grumbling under his breath if it all came out in English.

He'd been in Rolf's yard plenty of times of the years. He knew that. Vague images of unnatural pale and fur-less hands and feet and a quivering human voice that seemed so natural when the sun was up but so wrong when he was like this assaulted his mind. Kind of like how his fur and claws seemed wrong during the day. The only reason he knew it was_ Rolf's_ yard was because of the ingrained images from_ years_ of going through the fence gate and chattering on with the young farmer. Even in his distorted state, the place held a certain scent that was so _Rolf_ that it was impossible for him _not_ to recognize it.

He snorted irritably and wildly shook his head. Focus. He needed to focus. It was merely a battle of wills. He could do this.

The moon was mostly full. That was why everything felt so fuzzy, why he wanted to let everything go and act like a wild animal. He was longing for his pack. The smell of wolf in them was getting stronger by the day.

Pack. Pack was good. But they weren't a pack. Not yet. _Soon_.

Even after all the warnings he'd given him over the years, Rolf still kept the cages shut with a simple catch mechanism; a small metal hook welded into the side with a wood block shaped like a nail pushed as far into the hole as possible. A relatively simple system; something a desperate creature like himself could easily open.

He oughta build Rolf a lock after this was all finished. A show of gratitude, per say, masked as a show of friendship.

The poultry remained fast asleep as he crept closer. As a child he'd only had one or two chickens, but now Rolf kept them in groups of five or six.

_Perfect_.

The top of the cage fell open the moment he tugged the wood free, halted in it's owner-awakening noise by a set of hand-like paws easing it open and setting it on the ground. Then he ducked under the cage and waited.

It was only a few minutes before the first chicken woke and hopped to the ground with a flutter, startled awake by the sudden movement of its door. It glanced around, not catching sight of him just a few feet away in the shadows, waiting for the right chance to pounce.

The feeling was... exhilarating.

He waited until a couple more started absentmindedly trailing around the yard before slipping out of his hiding place and re-latching the cage without a sound.

A single bird dared turn around and catch sight of him. He smiled and fell to his fours.

The bird alerted its comrades to his presence, skittering across the lawn. He patiently followed, herding them, first into a group, then out under the wooden fence. He hopped the fence and chased after them.

He was gone mere moments before the lights in Rolf's house flickered on.

Herding chickens is a lot like herding cats when you've got no real experience, which he didn't. It took him hours of scrambling and hiding and nipping (never touching a singe feather on their heads, of course. It wouldn't do to hurt of kill them here.) to get them outside the Cul-De-Sac, and even longer to send them all scrambling into the forest. But he was patient, and it was more than worth it to have the ceremony go as planned.

The last bird disappeared out of sight just as the sky began to brighten. He muttered a low curse, which came out as a snarl, and skittered away.

Fine, then. There was always tomorrow night.

**Author's Note: The theft has occurred, and Rolf has been notified. So, who do you think is the culprit?**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed Edd n Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**Author's Note: I thought it might be a good idea to mention that this is post-canon. They kids are all teenagers in here, 14-16 (Personally I lean more towards 14 or 15). **

**They've all been on-and-off friends (the Eds and the rest of the kids, I mean. The Ed's are, and always will be, inseparable) for a good four or five years, but the trust is still pretty thin between them. The Ed's are still the troublemakers of Peach Creek, and the Cul-De-Sac kids are always seeing through their attempts at getting sweets and such, just with a hint of fondness(?) rather than disdain.**

**(story title subject to change)**

**...**

"So let me get this straight; It's _boiling_ hot out, and you're_ outside_ in a _sweater_?"

Double D lightly tsked him, eyeing his work. "I'm _building_ a lock, Eddy." He tugged on his collar uncomfortably. "And we both know that I can't exactly wear short sleeves this time of month."

"Hmm." Was his only reply. "So that _was_ you, huh? At Rolf's?"

"I have no idea _what_ you're talking about. I was at home, watching a movie and waiting for the dishes to dry."

"Yeah. Right." Eddy chuckled, not believing it for a second. "I didn't know Rolf's lock was broken."

"It's not. Just extremely outdated."

"Yeah, and so is Rolf. So what?"

"Which is exactly why I'm merely constructing a simple combination lock, instead of one of those 'newfangled' fingerprint ones."

"They have those now? Cool."

Double D sighed. "No, Eddy, as far as I know, they don't. It was a joke."

"Oh. I knew that." The shorter boy flopped down on the ground beside him, watching with small interest as he tinkered with the hunk of metal. "Hey, Sockhead?"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrows a full moon. Didja know that?"

"Is it?" Double D dropped the lock in surprise, then scrambled to pick it up.

Eddy felt smug. It wasn't often he knew something his friend didn't. "Yup."

"Oh dear." He got to his feet, continuing his project as he walked, talking small steps so that, if he _did_ bump into something while distracted, it wouldn't hurt. Eddy followed. "Why, I've been so busy, I hardy noticed the days pass by. Curse summer vacation and its ability to make one forget the definite date. Where's Ed?"

"Hunkered down in his room, no doubt, reading a bunch of werewolf comics to 'prepare.'" Eddy's grin faltered. "So, uh, is it really gonna hurt as much as it looks like it does, or were you just pretending to scare us off?"

"I _was_ pretending, but not in the sense you're accusing me of. I've become mostly accustomed to the pain of transforming over the years, and don't make nearly as much of a racket when I'm on my own compared to when you both were around, but it still hurts. More than I made it out to, I suspect."

"Oh. We'd be as used to it as you are, if'd you changed us sooner, you know." His tone turned almost accusing.

"If you haven't realized this by now, Eddy, I never wanted to change you in the first place." Double D sighed and set the lock on the counter, grabbed a trash bag, and began cleaning out the fridge. "I'll have you know that I was more than content to remain the_ only_ werewolf in Peach Creek."

He didn't rise to the bait. "What'cha doing?"

"Preparing for an invasion of the were-Ed variety. There is no doubt in my mind that, once transformed, all Ed is going to be a danger to is my food stock."

"Oh yeah? What about me?"

"I have a collar and chain under the stairs in my basement." From when he was still skittish of his instincts, obviously. He used to lock himself down there practically every night, for a good year or so, until it finally realized he was mostly-mostly, mind you- in control.

"Hey!"

"Oh, hush. What were you expecting me to do; let you and Ed run around the Cul-De-Sac feral?"

Eddy blanched. "I thought you were kiddin' about that!"

"Eddy, this is about magic. I never kid about magic."

"Well, maybe you oughta. It'd make things a heck of a lot less scary."

"Hmm? I didn't quite catch that last bit."

"Nothing, nothing. What's the plan, Sockhead?"

"The same plan I used to have every month, Eddy. Stock the fridge, lay out some extra clothes in the bathroom in case of tears, and lock us all down in the safe obscurity that is my basement."

"A little _lock_ is gonna stop Ed 'n me?"

"I'll be guarding the door."

"Oh."

"Ed will be more interested in playing and eating than escape. _You'll_ be the one who will want to set up your 'territory' and push the boundaries. Simply put; you're my number one concern. As usual."

"Hey, what can I say? Its a gift."

The first few transformations are the most painful and the most commonly forgotten. It takes time for one's body and mind to adjust to turning, despite having the 'disease' for almost a month beforehand, time usually spent in feral bliss. Double D vaguely remembered waking up to find himself covered in blood next to a half-eaten piece of prey. Things like that e_ffect_ people, especially at such an impressionable age. He wouldn't allow his comrades to go through the same ordeal. Not if he could help it.

To sum things up in a more understandable fashion; they were going to be absolute nightmares the first week or two, but then they would slowly begin to gain human awareness.

Double D kicked the fridge door shut and calmly shouldered the semi-full trash bag (and it was really saying something if he was so busy that he hadn't even gotten to cleaning the fridge recently) out the door, Eddy following but not trying to help. "You and Ed are going to have to stay the night here. Every night. At least until I'm confident that you're capable of not getting into too much trouble on you own." Operative term; _too_ much. They were always getting into trouble; telling them to stop would be like telling to sky to stop being blue.

"Right. If anyone asks, it's our horror movie week."

"Right." People would believe that. They'd spent more than a few weeks sitting in front of a television over the years, watching some random movie marathon together. It'd be more out of the ordinary if they _weren't_ having some kind of movie night at least once a week, and a movie week at least once every month.

"Oh, and wear some looser-fitting clothes. You're not going to grow or anything-" They were changing form, true, but the human genes were still _there_, buried deep beneath the surface. No one was about to wake up one morning the height of a basketball star. "But things are going to shifting and forming and breaking, so one must not be to careful."

"Uh-huh. What're you going to do about the ceremony-thingy while we're running wild?"

"I'm going to complete it, of course. I'll just wait until you've tuckered yourself out before slipping out the door. I've got plenty of time."

Dropping the trash off by the curb, he shooed his friend away with instructions to repeat the advice he'd given him to their sci-fi fanatic friend and finished the final touches on his lock before walking over to Rolf's house, ignoring the twinge of guilt he felt as he did so.

_Drastic times call for drastic measures, Eddward. You did what you had to._

"Hello there, Rolf." He gingerly approached the taller boy. "In the wake of your recent tragedy, I thought it fitting to construct a handmade _strong_ lock to help ensure that it won't reoccur." Not if he could help it. "Think of it as my way of saying 'I'm sorry.'"

Rolf took the contraption without complaint, lost in thought. The boy stared at him curiously out of the corner of his eye.

"There is nothing to fear, Double D-Edd-boy. It was probably merely one of those unintelligent monkeys you call college tourists."

Double D attempted a smile. "I don't doubt that, Rolf. I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of things."

Rolf was perched on a chair, one leg draped across his other knee, restlessly jumping with the need to move. A hand cupped his chin as he stared out into the yard thoughtfully, trying to figure out what might have happened. While not normally afraid of him when unarmed, Double D found himself feeling mildly uneasy at the dark look on his face; bloodthirsty determination.

"You look like you have seen Rolf's chickens ruthlessly butchered first-hand, Edd-boy. It doesn't suit you."

"I thought they were merely-"

"Bah!" He waved the notion away. "They'll kill them, Rolf knows it. Why else would they steal his priceless chickens? But for what reason, Rolf cannot yet explain."

"Ah. You know, Rolf." He cautiously stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Some of life's greatest mysteries are the ones that are never solved."

Rolf jerked away, eyes flashing with anger. "Are you telling me_ not_ to go looking for my chickens, Double D-Edd-boy?"

Double D stepped back and shook his head, hands raised. "Of course not. I would never try to dissuade you from doing something you truly believe is right. I'm merely trying to suggest that sometimes, just sometimes, there isn't a real or logical reason when certain things happen."

"Hmm..." Rolf studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Rolf understands, Edd-boy."

It occurred to him that, had he said _yes_ to Rolf's accusation, then there was the small but real chance that the foreign boy might've listened to him.

Oh well. There wasn't much he could do about it now.

"Now, if would excuse me, I have some chores I need to attend to..." Stocking the fridge, laying out clothes, making sure the collar and chain hadn't rusted, etc...

"Of course." Rolf slowly nodded once again. "Rolf does as well, actually." Preparing the hunt, milking the cow, checking on what was left of the chickens, etc...

"It was good talking to you, Rolf. Be safe."

Rolf was going to scour the woods for his missing livestock, no matter what he'd have to go through to do so. Fine, then. Double D would just have to be more careful tonight than usual, was all. He could do this.

Double D shook his head and pulled in on himself with a shudder, remembering the bloodthirsty gleam in his friends eyes as he walked home. "Never again..."

Ever.

**Author's Note: The werewolf of Peach Creek; revealed! Anybody surprised?**

**Rolf's preparing a search, Double D's preparing a hunt, and Ed and Eddy are preparing to transform for the first time. Busy times. =)**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed Edd n Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**...**

While few people knew it and even fewer acknowledged it, Jimmy's first name was actually James.

Well, at least, that's what his parents had scribbled down on his birth certificate. Double D had the sneaking suspicion that no one, in all his short life prior to getting a job at the nearby market, had ever called him by that name. Not even his parents.

Double D could sympathize, on a smaller scale. No one other than his parents called him 'Eddward', not even when he was little, and even then they communicated almost solely through sticky notes. Hearing someone call him Eddward was... weird, for lack of a better word. He could only_ imagine_ what the boy was going through.

Even still, there was something almost amusing about seeing the nametag on his chest half-covered in tape, covering 'ames' with 'immy' and generally irritating his higher-up, who watched him from his posts with a glare.

"They still haven't let up on that, have they?"

Jimmy grinned and set down the box he was carrying. "Oh, heya, Double D! Nope. I'm starting to worry they're gonna fire me."

"That sounds... a bit drastic, Jimmy." He commented, eyebrow raised. He grabbed a basket and trailed down the meat section. Jimmy followed. "Shouldn't you be working?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Break."

"Ah."

'Break' was the not-so-secret code word for 'bored out of my mind, and you're something to do, so here I am.' The people of Peach Creek were a mostly patient bunch, and no one said anything if a worker went on multiple 'breaks' to visit with friends. As long as the work got done, they didn't mind if it took a little longer than it would if you hadn't went on break. (The people of Peach Creek_ did_, however, have lot's of nervous ticks, like making a worker wear a nametag with what wasn't really their name on the front, for example.) After all, they were also _helping_ customers by watching over them, right? It wasn't _all_ bad, time-wasting nonsense.

Double D had heard it all before, even if he had never personally worked in the store. He had a pretty good idea how things worked.

"Stocking up?"

"Why, yes, Jimmy, I am. What gave it away?" He raised the basket _and_ an eyebrow.

"Huh." He hummed. "You never come this part of the week."

There were only two general stores in all of Peach Creek. A smaller, less expensive one he went to for the everyday things like toilet paper or toothpaste, and the larger, more expensive one he went to once or twice every few weeks for the not-so-everyday things like better quality meats and other groceries. 'Peach Creek Supermarket', the words boldly emblazoned across Jimmy's apron, was the later one.

Double D winced. Just as he was so stiff about his routines, the kids of the Cul-De-Sac expected those routines and decided something was amiss whenever he didn't uphold to them, which was usually the case. Frankly, however, he was surprised anyone had noticed_ that_ particular touch.

"Mother and Father had a small setback at work is all, I assure you. They'll have to stay out of town a few months longer than planned. They paid me a little early to inform me and apologize."

Jimmy's face falls. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's quite alright, Jimmy. We were all expecting it." Well, actually, no, he_ wasn't_ expecting it, but that was okay. It wasn't personal, and it didn't hurt. Not like it used to.

"You're getting more than usual." He comments to get out of the hole he'd dug, watching him set two large bags of chips into his basket. "Movie night?"

Right. There was a reason he was blowing his money on junk food he never really ate. Sarah, and, in turn, Jimmy, was one of the biggest gossip hounds Double D had ever met. It was best that their story starting circulating_ now_ rather than later. "Right on the money. Well, more of a 'movie _week_', actually, but you get the idea."

Jimmy grinned. "Cool."

It was probably saying something about his place in life when he could lie about something like this, badly, even, right to someones face, and have it go over without a hitch. He just wasn't sure what.

* * *

Double D had (mostly) grown out of his pocket labeler, and he didn't have labels on every single item in his house anymore. Sometimes it drives him up the wall, not having labels everywhere. Sometimes it bothers him more that he _does _have labels scattered about.

It's for that very reason that both his room and the kitchen are left as they always were. If he gets to frustrated by his room, he could sleep on the couch. If he can't stand how_ bare_ everything was, he could retreat to his designated safe rooms.

(That, and he isn't quite certain if he's allowed to take off all the sticky notes scattered about the kitchen. There might be an important message mixed in somewhere, or something. He wouldn't want to lose something important.)

Even still, the labels still provide him a certain form of comfort that stems back to the days before that dreaded night, of those rare nights he could actually go to his parents after having a nightmare and sleep with them (as few as those memories were). Either way, something about seeing everything labelled makes him sigh in relief and stress floats off his shoulders, if only a tad.

That, and it made finding things that much easier ("Hey, wheres-") ("Check the sticky notes. You'll find it eventually.")

Maybe he was just obsessed. Or maybe it was a permanent side-effect of his O.C.D. Whatever the case, he didn't worry over it for to long. It was weird, it worked, it was_ him_. That's all that mattered.

Ed and Eddy had long stopped caring, and he doubted they would even blink if he stuck a sticky note on top of each of the sets of spare clothes he stored away under the sink in his bathroom. One for Eddy, one for Ed. Perfect. Although, he had to admit, he _did_ prefer one over three, but three was a pretty nice number.

Usually.

Double D didn't mind being alone, honest. He knew most people hated the sensation, but he personally had nothing against it. Welcomed it, even. After all, Ed and Eddy, not to mention the rest of the Cul-De-Sac, were only a short phone call away, if needed. He had nothing to fear, being on his own.

"Them's fightin' words." Was Eddy's response to the declaration that he was perfectly content to be alone in his 'werewolf-dom' (as Ed had put it). Double D had thought they'd taken it as a joke, but he was wrong. Very,_ very_, wrong.

_"Now you don't have to be alone anymore."_

_"You'll thank us for this later, Sockhead. I'm sure of it."_

_"We've always been three, Double D. What happens to you, happens to us."_

Oh, curse them and their foolish kindness.

Because now he wasn't alone. And_ that's_ what scared him, especially right now, when things were so dangerous.

"I'm afraid I've made a grievous error, it seems. But I won't make it again. I'll fix things, Ed, Eddy, I promise."

He could do this.

"I'll make sure of it."

He won't have another lost friend. Not because of this.

Not if he can help it.

Right. He shook himself out of his thoughts and hurriedly stood. "Busy, busy, busy."

He had preparations to finish.

**Author's Note: Poor Double D. He's trying _so_ hard. =)**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed Edd n Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**...**

**AngelZ Of DarKness\- Thanks! =)**

**...**

While Double D wasn't particularly fond of them, cliches were not unlike routines, and, while the term usually made him frown, he knew that some cliches, like routines (or breaks from them) were unavoidable.

Like the cliche that transforming into a werewolf hurt. Which wasn't, in his opinion, a cliche.

And that was okay. Double D was used to a little pain. Being the continuous punching bag of his peers for more years than he cared to count had its perks, he supposed.

(Of course, things hadn't been that bad in many, many years now, which he was more than a little grateful for.)

But this wasn't just a beating forced upon him by his (not at the time) friends. This was about a pain that he, a pacifist by nature, had pushed upon his two best friends, knowing full well the consequences. And that was what hurt the most.

Ed and Eddy had known. Had seen it first-hand, even. But they still refused to back down. Double D didn't know whether to scream or hug them for it. (He choose neither, of course, but it was the thought that counted.)

They weren't the only ones who knew, either. Not in a technical sense, at least. The Kanker sisters left the odd bit of leftover lunch meat (which he hated when he was human but _loved_ when he wasn't) on the porch step for him. Whether it was a lack of 20/20 vision or just a refusal to see the truth staring them in the face, the Kanker's honestly seemed to believe he was a stray dog ("Musta escaped from the circus or somethin'. It's why he's so good at tricks.") and Double D wasn't about to inject logic and reality into a situation best left the way it was- on a river in Egypt.

(And, okay, if he were to be technical about things, he was pretty sure that his parents had at least a vague idea on what was wrong with him. He was also sure that was why they had moved in the first place- a fresh start; or an easier way to lie-, were gone so often- 'The trip is going to take longer than expected'- and why no one complained when the food bill was a bit higher that month than usual- 'I just happen to prefer the more expensive meats at the local market, mother. I'm sorry. Love, Eddward.'- No one had asked him about it since.)

While that was three people too many for his liking, it was also far better than, say, the entirety of Peach Creek knowing- especially at a time like this. Rolf would hunt him down without a second thought for harming his precious chickens (and their friendship), and the townspeople would be too terrified to see reason.

Speaking of chickens. His nose twitched. Good, they were still in the forest. He breathed a soft sigh of relief. Much easier to hunt them down that way.

The cliche that werewolves never remembered anything after their transformation was, in fact, not quite true. Some pushed the memories away, others didn't understand them, and still others refused to believe them. The mind was simply dulled down at night; more feral, less understanding. He could still remember being human, just like he could remember _not_ being human; he knew what was going on, but he didn't_ understand_.

Even when he was like this, he admitted to himself as he slipped into the forest, he still wasn't a good hunter. Even when feral, he lacked the capabilities of hunting; the only reason he was even able to hunt the chickens was because they were _Rolf's_ chickens, who had known him since forever, and, so long as they didn't catch sight of his body and register that _something wasn't normal_, they didn't care if he was nearby or not.

Which was probably for the best, he decided, preparing to pounce from behind a small hill. Otherwise they'd all be doomed.

He had _just_ managed to bite the bird around the neck and twist it when a twig snapped. He sat back on his haunches, ears twitching. It was all the warning he got.

Blue-hair (whatwashisnamewhatwashisnamewhatwas-) burst through the buses with a banshee yell, swinging what looked to be an old-school pitchfork around like it were a baseball bat.

He yelped, dropped the chicken, and grabbed the pitchfork with clumsy claws. They struggled, but he was stronger, and yanked it out of his hands. A cuff to the head (just hard enough to knock him out- and _ohmigoodness_ he had blood on his _paws_) did the rest.

Well, that was probably easier than it should have been.

Tossing the farming tool aside, he grabbed the chicken, looked over the fallen boy one last time (why did he feel so weird?) and took off for his house. He slammed the door, fumbled for the lock (which he wasn't sure why he needed to mess with but he knew he needed to make it move) and slumped down to the floor, back against the wood. He spat out the chicken.

Well, that could've gone... better.

His stomach churned, although for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. So, instead of worrying about it (which he would do plenty of when he was furless) he curled up and went to sleep.

Two weeks was plenty of time. Blue-hair, had he been on his side, probably would agree.

**Author's Note: No, Rolf's not dead. Just really, _really_ mad. =) What does everyone think?**

**And even werewolf Double D is a pacifist. Things are just a tad more complicated. **

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed Edd n Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood.**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**...**

**Author's Note: Whelp. No new reviews. Oh well. =)**

**...**

Double D cleaned before every transformation (pretty much every night) and before any and every movie night. It was a tradition, routine, and an instinct all wrapped up in one.

Despite the increasingly bad situation, he did not ignore the routine. The routine was part of the reason he had been able to get away with his transforming as long as he had (that, and his two best friends running some excellent interference on his behalf). Any and all animal fur and smells were effectively eliminated under the forces of antiseptic and a practiced hand.

Double D deposited the broom into the closet and pulled off his rubber gloves. The sanitation mask went next. Cleaning had always had a calming effect on him, and he felt his shoulders loosen as he looked over the spotless kitchen. Granted, it was only going to get dirty later, he knew, but the momentary peace he felt was more than worth it.

A knock on the door had him hurrying out of the room, taking the moment to fluff a couch pillow before pulling open the door.

"Double D-Edd-boy."

Double D swallowed, guilt welling up in his chest. "Good morrow, Rolf. How goes the search, if I may ask?"

Rolf didn't have any bandages on his head. He didn't even look like he was suffering from a headache. Double D knew better. "Rolf plans on taking a group into the woods tonight to search." He glanced at the spotless living room without even a hint of surprise, face blank. "Movie night, Edd boy?"

"Yes, actually. I wasn't aware you were planning a search, or I would've rescheduled."

"Rolf does not mind. We aren't going to search for Rolf's chickens, Edd boy. We are... after something much more_ sinister_ than a chicken thief."

Double D swallowed for a second time, refusing to let himself wince and tip the farmer off. Coming from Rolf, that _meant something_. And the sentiment hurt. "Invasive species from another country?" Not his best lie, but it'd do. "I heard about a species of insect that has recently-"

"Werewolves."

Double D paused, unsure how to respond. Rolf didn't wait for him to speak, raising a hand for silence. "Rolf knows you do not believe in such things, Double D-Edd-boy. I will not force you to agree with me, or come with me. Just... keep this with you, please. For Rolf's peace of mind."

He grabbed his hand and placed the wood handle of a small garden fork firmly into the palm, closing his fingers around it. "Please."

Double D smiled wide; fake and nervous. "Of course, Rolf. Happy searching."

"Happy _hunting_, Edd boy, and thank you." A shiver ran down his spine.

Only after Rolf had shut the door, small smile on his face, did Double D dare to look down.

He yelped and threw the gardening tool as though it were poison, which it was.

The handle may have been wood, but everything else was pure silver.

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear." His companions were due over in an hour, and it just wouldn't do if they came over just in time to see a silver _gardening tool_ pointed at them (although the symbolism might tickle Double D later). It was far too early to interject worry into the situation. Stress made the transformation that much harder- impossible sometimes, even.

So Double D swallowed the instinctive fear, grabbed the very edge of the handle, speedwalked it into the kitchen, and stuffed it into the back of a cabinet for later. Rolf, in a few months, once this was all over, would come by, certain that the danger had passed, and ask for the tool back. It was probably some sort of old country family heirloom. Double D would graciously give it back, and that would be the end of things.

Eddy walked into the house with the walk of a man who knew what he was doing even when he was really clueless. "Let's get this party started."

Ed was a tad more hesitant, but that didn't hinder his usual practice of giving him a big hug. "Is it gonna hurt, Double D?"

"Yes, Ed, it is. But you'll get used to it."

His lip trembled, but he didn't argue. "Okay, Double D. I trust you." Which was, in its own right, part of the issue.

Double D grabbed some water and snacks, then led them down the old basement steps, locking the door behind him. Eddy and Ed nervously lounged around the room, while he sat just in front of the steps.

Eddy leaned against a wall and slid down to the floor. "So, what's this I hear about a werewolf hunt?"

Double D cringed, but didn't deny it. "I... wasn't as careful as I ought to have been. It will pass."

"Yeah, but the ceremony thingy won't."

"I was planning on enlisting the help of the Kanker sisters."

"_Those_ psychos?"

"As long as they get half for their own merit, I don't see why they would be against helping me hunt down the chickens I need."

"I don't wanna hunt chickens, Double D." Ed said, face pale.

"Don't worry, Ed. I don't expect you too. I left a bunch of food in the fridge to occupy you while I'm gone, and Eddy, until you get a hold of yourself, I refuse to let you out of this basement. I'll be the only werewolf leaving this house the next few weeks."

"What about the hunters?"

"It'll be fi-" The room pulsed. Double D fell to his knees. Over the blood pounding in his ears, he vaguely heard his companions do the same. "It's nothing I can't-" He broke off with a groan, but Ed and Eddy probably got the hint, so all was well.

He fell to his side, content to stay there until the change was over before finally sitting up and moving about the room.

* * *

"Whattaya want?" Lee snapped as she thrust the trailer door open.

"Kanker sister! Rolf and company-" He gestured to the group of teenagers behind him, all armed with varying degrees of weapons- from household objects to full on knifes or silver silverware. "Were wondering if you heard anything peculiar these past few nights?"

Under her mop of hair, Lee blinked at them. "I ain't heard nothin'."

She went to slam the door, but Rolf thrust his foot in the way.

"Lee! What's goin' on out there?" Marie called.

"Some Cul-De-Sac nimrods are interrogatin' me!" She answered, then turned back to them with a snarl. "What? I already told ya I ain't seen nothin'."

"Then perhaps you have_ seen_ something strange. Of the canine variety, perhaps?"

"No."

May poked her head around her older sister's shoulder. "Wait, are you askin' about Fluffy? 'Cause I ain't seen 'em in _weeks_, and I'm gettin' worried."

**Author's Note: Told you Rolf wasn't dead. =)**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed, Edd, N Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**...**

**Guest (March 2)- Thanks, I think. =)**

**...**

Rolf slowly blinked, face mostly neutral despite the odds stacked against him. "Fluffy?"

"May, you idiot." Lee shoved her sister's shoulder hard enough to make her stumble. "Fluffy's justa stray dog."

"I know, but they said 'somethin' canine', so I thought they were lookin' for Fluffy, that's all."

"Hmm..." She considered that for a second. Lee turned to them with a snarl. "'S that it, then? You're lookin' for Fluffy?"

"Well..."

Kevin slapped a hand over Rolf's mouth before he could say anything. "Depends. Is, uh, 'Fluffy' a big dog? I mean, if he's, like, a pocket pet, then no."

Lee shrugged, then, deciding that the sooner she answered the sooner they'd leave, shook her head. "One 'a the biggest strays I've ever seen."

"Can he stand up at all?"

Another shrug. "He's well-trained."

"Yeah, he is." May cheerfully agreed. "Remember when we showed 'em how to untangle the fishing line?"

"Ah, shaddup, May. Fishing ain't legal in these parts."

"But we-"

"I _said_ shaddup!"

"What does everyone think?" Rolf whispered once the two sisters were distracted.

"I still don't buy this whole werewolf thing, but they sound like they're telling the truth." Kevin said. Nazz snorted.

"Yeah, right. Those Kanker's don't know_ how_ to tell the truth."

"_Lee_! Are you_ still_ talking to those Cul-De-Sac bozos!?" Marie's voice cut through the air. "It's too late for this crud!"

"They're askin' about Fluffy!" Lee called back.

"I don't _care_ what they're asking about, get 'em off our front step!"

Lee grumbled under her breath and cracked her knuckles threateningly. The search party stepped back a step as one, hands raised.

"Wait, chill, we'll go. But, before we leave... you wouldn't happen to know where this 'Fluffy' is right now, would you?"

The oldest Kanker cracked her neck with a shrug. "Nope. I told ya's, he's a stray dog. He don't got a home to go home to."

Marie's head popped out of the doorway and nodded in the direction of the town. "He was headin' back towards the Cul-De-Sac, last I saw 'em. Now go away!"

She slammed the door in their faces. The teenagers were thankful it wasn't their heads or hands in those hinges.

"Wait a sec. The way she was pointing..."

Rolf squinted his eyes to better see in the darkness. "The Nazz-Girl is right. Double-D-Edd-Boy's house is on that side of the road."

Jimmy swallowed. "He picked up some snacks and stuff yesterday. Something about a movie night." He said quietly.

"Which means that he'll be that _things_ first target." Sarah finished.

Rolf let out a yell and grabbed his pure silver pitchfork (a family heirloom, passed down for just such the occasion). "Less talking, more saving. We can make it to his house in under an hour if we hurry."

"Right. Let's go!" Kevin waved his arm.

* * *

Two steps forward, one step back. That's how Double D's life had always been, it seemed.

Forward. His parents moved him- well, all of them, technically, but he was the only one who lived there regularly- to Peach Creek with explicit instruction to keep whatever it was that was 'wrong' with him under wraps. Young Eddward shakily agrees, fingering the bandages on his arm.

Back. Two weeks into the move, young Eddy and Ed come crashing into his house in the middle of the night and stumble upon him chained up in the basement, mid-transformation, and flee, horrified and confused.

Forward. They get over it.

Back. They make him turn them.

Forward. Double D finally designs something for one of Eddy's scams that's practically fool-proof and won't blow up in their faces (and it doesn't, it blows up in everyone else's). He'd swear by it.

Back. They're run out of Peach Creek, and he's too stressed to transform like he's supposed to, and not-transforming, believe it or not, hurts more than _actually_ transforming because it builds up under your skin and it won't go away. The one night he manages to pull it off is spent whimpering behind a pile of rocks, hoping against all hope that no one will come upon them _now_, that his secret will be kept for _just one more night_.

Forward. They're welcomed back with open arms and a shaky truce that's managed to make it through the years.

Back. He still hasn't gotten the guts up to tell his parents what happened, has trashed all the notes he'd written so carefully, for fear they'll move him to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. They don't even know that he's ever left the town limits unsupervised.

And so on.

Day one, hour five; Double D is bored, Ed is just waking up from a nap with a snore loud enough to deafen young children, and Eddy's _still_ barking like a loon. Goody.

Even still, Double D's pack instincts are soaking in the new phenomenon of _actually_ having a pack. It's safe and familiar in an Ed and Eddy way, and the familiarity helps soothe his frazzled nerves. Having a pack means less stress, and having less stress means that, when things finally settle down, changing will come that much easier.

Ed whines from the corner, silently asking for food. There's no real werewolf language (not any that he's been made aware of, at least), but he knows his friends (no, his _pack_) more than well enough to decipher what they're saying, even as feral as he is.

Eddy pauses in his barking long enough to do the animal equivalent of rolling his eyes before starting up again. Double D wonders if his voice is going to give out anytime soon, and is thankful that his basement is mostly soundproof. He checks the chain is secure one last time before trudging up the stairs. Ed, as dormant and peaceful as a doorknob, doesn't follow him.

He grabs the refrigerator door handle with an awkward paw and tugs it open with a start. His eyes zero in on a ham- not just the cheap prepackaged kind the Kanker's toss his way, but a full, cooked and stored this very afternoon (courtesy of a less-furry version of himself) ham. Perfect. It'll tame his packmates appetite, if only for a moment, and give him plenty to share. He grabs the plate carefully and closes the door with a back foot.

_Then_ the yelling starts.

Double D can't decipher it, of course, but he knows that it isn't good just from the sound and the shear amount of _voices_ echoing in his ears. Then he remembers Blue-hair saying something about killing werewolves and scrambles down the stairs, closing but not locking the basement door behind him.

Not good. Not good at all. He forgot to turn the metal piece. He _needed_ to turn the metal piece!

There's a place under the stairs that is completely filled with darkness that you'd need a flashlight to peer into at this hour, and Double D lures Ed there with the ham. He chews on it quietly, knowing that whatever is bothering his packmate _isn't_ something to be messed with. Then he pulled Eddy's chain so he hovered under the stairs and stomped a foot firmly but not painfully on his muzzle and kept it there, back pressed against the stairs.

They knew. They knew something wasn't right and they were sneaking into his house to find out just what it was and they were hunting werewolves and _he_ was a werewolf and so was Eddy and Ed and_ think_, Eddward, think, and...

Clothes. He forced himself to calm his breathing. They needed clothes. Clothes were upstairs, in a room on the right. All he had to do was get up there, lock them all in that room, and wait for morning. Then they could change and escape.

The basement door opened. Teenagers (of the not-furry variety) came down the stairs with weapons. Eddy started to growl, but Double D adjusted his paw on his muzzle.

He gently reached over and, with shaking claws, undid the chain from the hook on the wall. Ed perked up, ham forgotten.

Eddy burst out of the stairwell, barking and snarling. He took off for the stairs, attacking anyone that didn't move out of the way (but not biting, he noticed with some relief). Once they got up the stairs, Double D took hold of the chain and guided him towards the stairs that led to the second floor landing. Ed, scared by all the loud noises and new smells, followed close by.

"Did you see-"

"That looked like-"

"I can't believe-"

The sun was rising in a few hours, he noted distractedly. He was beginning to understand human words, phrases, even, but he couldn't put together full sentences.

Yanking Eddy and Ed into the bathroom, he slammed the door shut, locked it (don'tforgetdon'tforgetdon'tforget- _not again_!), and slumped against the wood, panting. Ed took residence in the bathtub (which was clean but dry) and Eddy guarded the window with a growl (which was shut tightly and locked).

No one tried to burst in, although he could vaguely hear their voices just outside the door and down the hallway. Double D got the feeling that the peace wouldn't last much longer, not after the sun rose, but the adrenaline was wearing off, so he let it go and tried to get some sleep.

**Author's Note: Uh-oh. That can't be good. =)**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed, Edd, 'n Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**Chapter Title: Well, The Truth Had To Come Out Sometime.**

**...**

Eddy woke up the next morning with a throbbing pain in his back, a collar and chain fastened around his throat, and a face-full of bath mat.

"What the-" He harshly pulled the concoction of leather and metal off and left it on the floor with a confused grumble.

Double D was sleeping against the door, Ed was snoring in the bathtub (Wow. Eddy never thought he'd see the day he'd get to say 'Ed' and 'bathtub' in the same sentence. Unless you counted that gross gravy thing he had in his room, which he didn't), and they'd somehow managed to go up two stories and lock themselves in a completely not-soundproof bathroom all without him remembering _how_.

All in all, he'd expected worse. He didn't know whether to be proud of himself or strive to try harder tomorrow. (Not that he'd remember tomorrow, either.)

"Let's see here." He crouched down and pulled open the sink cabinet doors. He smirked. "Bingo. Spare clothes, here I come."

Pulling the sticky note off the freshly cleaned and folded t-shirt- 'Spare clothes (Eddy)'- he tossed the crumpled ball haphazardly into the trash bin and pulled the shirt over his head.

"Up and at 'em, Lumpy!' He tossed the larger spare set- sticky note and all- into the bathtub. "It's showtime.

Ed snorted and rolled over. Eddy reached over to grab the hot water tap and gave it a half a turn; not even enough to coax the water out, just enough for the rushing of water through the piping to echo through the room. Ed jerked awake like a startled rabbit and pounced, tackling the boy to the floor.

"Not the hot water, Eddy! Anything but that!"

"Okay, okay, already. I won't douse you. Now get off me and get dressed."

Ed gingerly climbed off and snatched the clothes (which were a tad dirty, Eddy noticed with mild surprise. Double D really pulled out all the stops to make them comfortable) out of the bathtub like the walls and bottom were made of lava.

"Alrighty then. Yo, Sockhead, you up?"

Double D didn't so much as twitch. "I assure you, Eddy, I've never been more awake in my life."

"Good. You can tell us how we ended up like this, then."

Double D nodded and slowly stood up, readjusting his hat so it no longer covered his eyes. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid that the worse case scenario- in this case, being discovered- has, as always with us, occurred."

All of Eddy's cheer disappeared in an instant. "You're kiddin'."

"I never 'kid' about magic, Eddy. I locked us in here so we could collect our belongings and vacate the premises. If we work quickly, it's early enough in the morning that we may be able to escape undetected."

"I don't wanna run away, Double D." Ed looked ready to cry. "It's no fun when we're on the run and all cranky."

"It's the only option we have, Ed. Unless you'd rather be stabbed with a silver gardening tool. Then, by all means, let's stay."

Ed jerked away as though struck. Double D's features softened. "I'm sorry, Ed. I didn't mean to be short with you, but this is our only option. You're werewolves now and, as such, silly little things like silver _can_ hurt you. None of us are completely human anymore, and they'll use that as an excuse to kill us without a second thought. The only plan that I can come up with is that we complete the ceremony, unload the responsibilities onto some other poor sap, and head for the hills."

"But which sucker do we choose?" Eddy thrust his hands into the air in agitation. "They all hate us!"

Not that that was entirely out of the ordinary. "I'm... not entirely sure yet, Eddy, but it's the best solution. We can talk more about this later." Double D crossed the room and unlatched the window. "First things first; we need to escape Peach Creek alive."

Unlike Ed and Eddy, whose clothes were badly torn, Double D's were still in mostly good condition from years of practice, so he merely pulled on a large hoodie to cover the worse tears and resolved to sew the others up later. It was far from the Edd's first escape, and they climbed down the side of the house with ease as a tribute to the long hours of hard work spent building and working on different jobs and scams over the years.

"Once we escape into the forest, we can-" Double D's sentence was cut short by a gasp of surprise as a pure silver pitchfork was thrust threateningly into his face, close to his eyes. He immediately backed up, hands raised in surrender.

Rolf's jaw was clenched, eyes burning with anger and betrayal that was bursting out the seams. "Double D-Edd-Boy is a werewolf!" He yelled, making him back up even further with a well-aimed but not-striking jab of the gardening tool. "And the other Edd-Boys are his werewolf cronies!"

"Hey, we're not-" Double D jabbed an elbow into his side. Eddy glared at him, but obediently shut his mouth; given the circumstances involved, he decided it was best not to put in his two cents yet.

"Admit it!" Rolf spat. "Admit to your inhumanity, Edd-Boy!"

Double D swallowed but didn't answer. He glanced around the growing circle of his semi-peers, then the Cul-De-Sac. He breathed a soft sigh of relief. One thing you could always count on when it came to the adults of Peach Creek- they were never around when they were needed. (Or, they were never around when the other kids needed them which was what _they_ needed right now)

Johnny stepped forward a step, but no farther. He looked like he'd just watched a semi run over an old hunk of wood ("Wood has souls just like everyone else, Double D. Just look at me 'n Plank!") in front of him. Twice. "Is it true, Double D?"

The whole Cul-De-Sac knew, he realized with a start. Everyone had gone to see who had had the gall to steal Rolf's chickens. Everyone had been in his home when the three werewolves had come racing up the stairs.

Everyone_ but_ the Edds.

"Must we..." Double D swallowed his fear and turned to glare defensively at the farm-boy. "Must we do this _here_? People could _hear_ us." Who was around the hear Double D didn't know, but he always did his best to cover all his bases.

Rolf faltered in surprise. "Rolf did not hear Double-D-Edd-Boy deny Rolf's claims."

"I'm not denying it." He said bluntly. "But this really isn't the place to talk of such things."

The circle of teenagers stared at them, floored. Even Eddy and Ed were unsure what to think of the normally jittery boy's newfound courage.

"Come inside, and I'll make us all a nice cup of tea. Heck, you can even have some snacks. Lord knows I've got more than enough junk food to sustain you all for this. Afterwards, I'll tell you what's going on. Just, _please_ stop pointing that _thing_ at us."

Rolf's hands tightened around the handle of his pitchfork. "You plan to poison us?"

Double D's expression turned as deadpan as politely possible. "Rolf, it was be highly suspicious of me if all of you dropped dead after sharing a cup of tea with me at my house. I don't want to go to jail."

Rolf looked over his expression a long moment, probably deciding if he was trustworthy or not, and gently nodded. "Rolf sees your point, Edd-Boy. Lead on."

* * *

Double D, being one of the only teenagers in the Cul-De-Sac who still spent his afternoons cleaning, doing his chores, and studiously studying despite the social stigmas against it, wasn't one to really have many guests over. Eddy and Ed had stopped being guests and started being part of the scenery ages ago, and they were the only regular visitors he had.

So seeing his living room stuffed to the gills with teenagers, all sipping tea (minus Ed and Eddy, who were drinking milk and caffeinated soda, respectively) was not a sight he normally bore witness too. Every, really.

"I like your, uh, tea." Jimmy said eventually, breaking the awkward silence. "Sweet, but not too sweet. I can never manage to pull that off."

"Why, thank you. It's a little something I picked up off the internet ages ago. I'm not really sure where now, but if you were interested in the recipe I could always-"

"Double Dork." Kevin said gruffly. "Stop dodgin' and get it over with."

Johnny glared at him. "Hey, at least let him finish!"

"No, no." Double D slumped into an empty chair. "He's absolutely right, Johnny. Tea recipes can wait." He sighed. "If there's one thing us Edd's are good at, it's running." He swirled the tea around in his cup to give his hands something to do. He watched the rhythmic motion. "Running from the Kankers, or you, trying to give us a beating- which, thankfully, hasn't happened in years-, running from a scam that's about to blow sky-high, running from Peach Creek, it goes on and on. We Edd's are really only good at one thing; running. We'd be track stars, if we ever bothered to show up for practice."

"Eh." Eddy leaned back in his recliner. "Sport's teams are for squares."

"And we're ovals. I'm well aware, Eddy." Double D set his cup down. "If running is the one thing we're really good at, then owning up and facing the facts is the one thing we really suck at. I'm sorry for that, but it's in my nature." He stood up and shrugged. "Alright, I'll say it. I'm a werewolf. Eddy and Ed are werewolves too."

"So we gathered." Rolf grunted. "You are the one who turned them, yes?"

Double D's shoulders slumped as a wave of guilt (a familiar feeling by now) washed over him. "That is correct."

"And who turned you?"

"No one from around here, if that's what you're getting at." A pause. Double D sighed. "I... don't know. I never got to meet them face-to-face."

"You say them." Rolf prompted.

"It was a pack, yes. The leader bit me."

"And?"

"And nothing. We moved here a few months later, and you know the rest."

"Wait a second." Sarah stood up. "Are you saying you've been a werewolf for_ that_ long?"

"Yes. I am. Nine, nine-and-a-half, almost ten years now. Werewolves can't transform when under a large enough amount of stress. That's why, during our midnight adventures when we were younger..."

"No one noticed." The farmer finished grimly. Rolf sat back with a frown, rethinking almost everything he ever knew about his friend. "Tell Rolf, why did you break into Rolf's farm?"

He sounded defeated. Double D didn't shrink under his gaze. "Why do _you_ think?" He asked, curious what the taller boy would answer.

He shrugged. "It wasn't for food. This would've happened long ago if it were food. And you're fridge is full. _And_ you're a vegetarian."

"Mostly." Double D added hesitantly. "I can't _not_ eat meat at night."

He didn't bother to reply. "The only reason Rolf can come up with is a grudge." He watched the boy with a strange look in his eye. "Do you hate Rolf, Edd-Boy?"

"Well, I certainly don't _like_ you very much right now, but no. I don't hold a grudge against you- against anyone, really. If I was going to, it would've developed long before now." A short pause. "Peach Creek is an old town, wouldn't you agree?"

Johnny jumped at the sudden change of topic. "Huh?"

"Well, it is. Its been around since the colonial times; just one of those little hole in the wall places nobody ever bothered to remember. I've yet to find it on any maps, no matter how detailed they are. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

Ed's head ducked to his chest. "It sounds like the setting of Return of The Swamp Creatures five, Double D. And four. And three. And two. But not one- that was on the moon."

"Precisely, Ed, although that wasn't quite how I'd put it. Peach Creek is a horror movie waiting to happen, but, besides us three and our inconsistent shenanigans, there's no _real_ crime. No murders, no robberies, no assaults. That takes quite a bit of magic to upkeep, you know."

"What exactly are you saying, Double D?"

"I'm saying that magic is the only thing that's keeping our quaint little Cul-De-Sac the tranquil place it is whenever Eddy is sleeping."

"Hey!"

"I need that chicken blood to purify the forest and seal this town from any sort of magic left lingering from the colonial days. I'm not sure what that magic is, exactly, but its got to be pretty powerful to invoke a yearly dose of magic to keep our town- and the forest- safe to inhabit."

"Why_ this_ year, then?"

"Simple; the butchers messed up my order. I know little to nothing about magic, Rolf, but I do know that whatever it is I'm keeping down, it's powerful. Like, destroy the town and kill us all powerful. The only reason me and my companions are allowed to exist in this town at all without being destroyed is because I was officially introduced at the towns Keeper; I keep Peach Creek safe once a year, then go on with life is usual. That's my only real purpose around here."

"And you thought it would be a good idea to keep this to yourselves... why?"

"Because as cowardly as this may seem, I don't want to die. Correction; I don't want to die by means of a silver pitchfork."

Rolf nudged the pitchfork out of the way- but not out of arms reach- and stood up. "And if we help Double-D-Edd-Boy and his friends with this ceremony thing, what will happen afterwards?"

Double D looked surprised, but didn't comment. "Why, absolutely nothing. It would be business as usual."

"And you?"

"Eddy, Ed, and I will all still be furry by the moonlight, Rolf. I can't help that."

"Rolf _meant_; will you stay?"

Double D blinked. "Stay?"

"In Peach Creek. There are rules and limitations to be set, and Rolf is still mad at all of you, but we don't want you to run away. You would only cause trouble if you did."

For the first time in many hours, Double D grinned. "Well, that certainly sounds... doable. If my friends stay, I stay."

"Uh, duh. We ain't got nowhere else to go."

"Chickens, Double D!"

"We'll take that as a yes." Jimmy smiled.

**Author's Note: Don't worry, its not gonna be fluffy kitties and unicorns from here on out. Rolf's still carrying a grudge, and Double D and the others are still in hot water. But, even then, no one in the Cul-De-Sac wants a repeat of 'the scam that shall not be named.'**

**Random headcanon for you; during the time of the movie, the Cul-De-Sac sat mostly empty, save for the few parents who were a normal presence in the town behind the scenes. No one went looking for the kids because this was _Peach Creek_, one of the safest towns on earth, for pete's sake. No one but the kids know of their out of tri-town area (and possibly tri-state?) chase and attempted beat down, and they plan on keeping it that way.**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed Edd n Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**Chapter Title: Secrets We Don't know**

**...**

Three times. Three times Double D had gone through the hassle of checking his math homework, already aware it was perfect. The teacher could have handed him their special edition book and he was dead certain everything would match up perfectly.

It's the middle of summer. He hasn't even been _assigned_ any math homework yet. Even still, there was nothing wrong about working ahead a few months.

Three times. Three times he'd rechecked his work that technically wasn't even work and that he already knew was perfect. He was going to stop at two times, but three _was_ his lucky number, so one more quick skim through wouldn't hurt, right?

He was officially out of plausible excuses to use to avoid talking to the two teens perched on his bed like hawks. Pity.

"I don't need guards, you know. I'm not planning on escaping. We're working towards the same goal now, escaping would be illogical."

"We believe you." Jimmy said, shrugging. "But Rolf said so." Which was, at this point in time, a more than plausible excuse.

"Understandable, I suppose. I hope he realizes I'm not about to tear the house apart in his absence or anything." Double D stood up and looked them over. "You do realize this, yes?"

"All things considered, we didn't expect you to." Jimmy paused. "We hadn't expected a lot of things, really."

Double D stuffed his impeccable papers into his math book and set the book on his shelf (alphabetically ordered and labeled, of course). He didn't answer.

"It's getting late. Aren't you going to change?"

Double D's body was buzzing with painful energy. He took that as the sign it was. "Not quite yet." He shook his head. "The stress is hindering the process."

"But you _are_ going to change, right?" He asked, voice sounding a bit antsy.

"Most likely. My instincts are coming to the slow conclusion that, stress or no stress, it's necessary for me to transform."

Johnny, who had been quietly muttering back and forth with Plank, suddenly perked up. "Plank says he wants to know if it hurts."

Double D looked at the teen and the plank of wood dryly. "Yes, well, Plank certainly seems to have a morbid sense of curiosity, doesn't he? To answer the question; yes, Plank, it does hurt. It would be more strange if it _didn't_ hurt."

"You'll be okay though, right?" Jimmy broke in.

"Of course I will be." Double D sat down beside them on his wrinkled bed sheets (note to self, straighten those later) and sighed. "I'm sorry I dragged you all into this."

"I'm not." The blond answered simply.

Johnny smiled and poked Plank in the chest. "Like Plank says, Double D. It was too important for you to skip out on the details. We get it."

"Plank certainly seems to be blossoming into quite the advice-giver, isn't he? He's much better at it then when we were kids, at least." Double D smiled. "But I wasn't talking about the ritual. I was talking about my 'condition.'"

"You mean being a werewolf?"

Double D grimaced at the boy's blatant lack of tact. "Yes, Johnny, I meant being a werewolf."

"Oh." He paused in thought, then brightened. "But it's really cool, Double D! Having a secret life, I mean. 'S like being in one of those movies you Ed's like to watch."

"Well, I'm not entirely sure about that, but it certainly isn't cool. It's really not unlike turning into a big dog almost every night."

"Which would be _really_ cool!"

"What I meant was- never mind. I'm flattered, Johnny. Honestly. But it really isn't as exciting as you seem to be picturing it to be."

"I should hope not." Jimmy frowned. "Some of those movies are really gory."

"An unrealistic expectation, I might add. Usually I just run around the forest or take a nap on the floor."

"So you'll be safe, then? During the hunt?"

He twiddled his thumbs. "I can't say for sure either way, honestly. When I transfo-... when I'm _like that_, I know I_ have_ to finish a mission, and to do that I_ have_ to catch some chickens. I might see you as a threat or a hindrance and attempt to break away from the group. But, as long as no one outright threatens or stops me, I doubt it. I never had a problem with Ed and Eddy helping during the ceremony.

"Oh."

"Don't worry. I've yet to so much as leave a mark on anyone during my midnight prowls- not counting those chickens. I'm sure it'll be fine."

They sat in companionable silence awhile longer. Double D focused on cultivating the energy buzzing through his veins, making it grow more and more powerful and intense until he couldn't take it anymore and got to his feet.

"Pardon me. I need to use the lavatory."

"We'll go with." Jimmy said as they both stood up. "Since we need to- Double D?"

Double D swayed and leaned a hand against the wall for support. He grit his teeth. "It's time." He said eventually. "Go get Rolf."

"But-"

He straightened himself. "There are some things I'd rather you not see, Jimmy. This is one of them. Go get Rolf."

"O-Okay. Just... don't run off, alright?"

Double D was already halfway to the door, a pained smile on his lips. "In this condition, it's unlikely I'd get very far even if I _did_ run. Don't worry."

* * *

The rules the Ed's had to follow to stay in Peach Creek and_ not_ end up being stabbed by antique farming equipment were actually a lot easier than Double D had suspected they'd be.

One; If it has anything to do with magic, you tell the full story. No exceptions. (And, alright, so Double D had already broken that one, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them).

Two; other than during the more_ sensitive_ parts of their nights (the initial transformation, the feral state they sunk into on the full moon, etc) it is completely safe for anyone who knows the secret to slip the spare basement key out of its hiding place and go downstairs. Any injuries won't be the Ed's fault unless they were unprovoked.

Three; no turning anyone else into a werewolf. ("Aw, come'on, Rolf!") (Johnny, stuff it. You don't know what you're talking about.")

And four: someone from the Cul-De-Sac is to trail them every night/all night from a safe distance away to ensure that everyone (both werewolf and not werewolf) remains safe. They are allowed to carry a weapon, but are only allowed to use it if it is absolutely necessary. The guards were to interchange throughout the month.

_Those_ rules he could deal with. But this, this _vile_ thing, it's going over the line.

"Uh, Rolf? I don't think he likes the collar."

He couldn't understand exactly what Plank's carrier was saying, but he was pretty sure he was complaining in his stead. Double D grunted his agreement.

"Tough toenail clippings!" Rolf, hands wrapped tightly around the chain leash (which, incidentally enough, came from_ his_ hiding place) said. "Rolf does not trust him to not attack us."

"I'm with Johnny on this one." Jimmy said, walking faster to be beside him. "I mean, I understand what you're saying, but he's starting to look really mad."

"Your point?"

"Well, it's one thing to get Double D mad, I guess, but this isn't really Double D. Do you really want to take that chance?"

"If he steps a single claw out of line, I'll shoot him." He promised, not the least bit swayed.

"Rolf! You can't _do_ that!"

Double D sighed in frustration. He didn't know what they were saying, exactly, but he _did_ know that this was going to take all night if he didn't do something.

"I can and I will."

"Look, Rolf, I get that you're upset and all, but doesn't that sound a bit... excessive?"

"No." Rolf shook his head, eyes glinting in determination. "Double-D-Edd-Boy lied to Rolf. Lied to all of us."

"Yeah, and we're all really mad about it, but he's_ still_ Double D underneath all that fur."

"Precisely Rolf's point. Double-D-Edd-Boy is smart and very crafty. This could be just the tip of the iceberg of lies and betrayal. Who knows what other things he and his cronies could be hiding from us."

This time, when Rolf tugged on the chain, it yanked off the ground and landed by his ankle with a hollow thud. He whipped around.

Double D, collarless, was sitting on his back haunches, a dead chicken in his mouth. To Rolf, the way his mouth curled upwards reminded him of the old country way of saying 'come at me, bro.'

Rolf lunged in anger. Jimmy and Johnny each grabbed an arm and struggled to hold him back.

"Swine! Rolf will turn you into a fur rug for breaking the rules like this! He-"

Jimmy yelled to be heard over the farmer's ranting. "I sure hope Kevin and Nazz are having better luck than we are with the other two!"

* * *

"I'm just saying, Nazz. If it's as safe down there as Double D said it was, it shouldn't hurt to peek."

Nazz sighed. "Sorry, Kev, but I'm not interested in becoming a hairy monster. Maybe next time."

They'd never noticed it before tonight, but Double D's home was incredibly quiet when nobody was stamping through it like a bull in a china shop. There wasn't even a fan running. The halls seemed to stretch on mile after lonely mile. If it weren't for the thin strand of noise escaping from under the basement door, the duo would've quit and left the two newer werewolves to their own devices.

Nazz felt the urge to momentarily dissipate the quiet, so she started talking. "Seriously, though, how does Double D stand it? It's like a flippin' morgue in this house, I swear."

"He doesn't." Kevin grunted. "Probably goes to Ed or Eddy's. Or they come here, or somethin'. They probably watch over the place while he's, well, y'know."

"Yeah..." Nazz trailed off and frowned. "Kev?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think his folks know?"

"Maybe. Probably." Kevin shrugged. "It'd explain why they're never really home."

"That's... really sad, don't you think?"

"No. You know what _I_ think is pretty sad? That he's been like this for so long. That they'd known that he's been like this for so long. We've known these guys since we were old enough to walk, and it _never_ occurred to us that there might be a_ reason_ we never really saw them after hours?"

"Yeah, well." Nazz's head dipped to her chest. "We've never really been all that observant when it came to those guys, y'know? They could have tons of secrets and we wouldn't even know it."

"They probably do. Now that I think about it, I've never even heard Double D mention his home town _once_. There's gotta be something we're just not getting."

"Other than the fact he was hunted down by a pack of wolves and bitten?"

"Probably. There's probably a lot about that day we don't know."

Kevin and Nazz stared at the basement door and listened to the noises coming from below, trying to figure out just what all they didn't know, but no answers came. They probably never would.

**Author's Note: This is sort of a transition chapter, but it's sort of not too... huh.**

**I just wanted to expand upon the new distrust the kids in the Cul-De-Sac are feeling, as well as the questions undoubtedly popping up in their minds. Of all the people they expected to have secrets, the Ed's weren't it. They still aren't sure how to process it.**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed, Edd, N Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**Chapter Title: It's Not Pretty, But That's Okay**

**...**

**Passing Stranger (May 2nd)\- Thanks! It's nice to finally get a review! =)**

**...**

The next few weeks went comparatively more smoothly then the first few days. Double D finally told them what to do with the chicken blood, for one; symbols were to be drawn onto the bark of every tree that skirted the outside of the patch of forest land. The symbols would activate, glow a bit, then disappear by morning. What happened to them, Double D wasn't sure. He knew very little about magic as a whole.

Eddy and Ed slowly got a better hold on themselves. They finally even got to the point they could be trusted out of the basement, even if they were still more feral than they would be normally. The two werewolves didn't look like they could be happier, trotting around the Cul-De-Sac in the darkness, and Double D, who was sorely missing a pack by this age, was content, and his instincts began to settle.

The Cul-De-Sac finally breathed a sigh of relief once the fact they were truthfully far less dangerous than they seemed finally sunk in. Just give them a bone and they'd be happy for the rest of the night.

The nightly guard still hadn't let up, though. He doubted it ever would.

Rolf also let up, to a degree. He still wasn't very pleased with any of them, but there were no more threats of death by gardening tool. The silver gardening fork disappeared from his cabinet without so much as a mentioning.

"This will all be over tomorrow." Double D swore. Rolf nodded.

"Good. It's about time."

There was a long awkward pause. Double D fidgeted. "Rolf?"

"Yes, Double-D-Ed-Boy?"

"Well, I was just thinking that once things are over... Ed and Eddy are in safe perimeters now, so there's nothing to worry about, and... maybe we could just let this slide?"

Rolf frowned. "Let what slide?"

"Why, everything. You all don't have to be involved in this if you don't want be. _I'm_ only involved in this because I have to be. It's not your burden to bear."

"And what do you suggest we do, Ed-Boy? Look the other way?" Rolf stood up and balled his fists.

Double D twiddled his thumbs and nodded. "More or less. There's no immediate danger, so..."

"That's not the point, Ed-Boy. The point is that you want me- us- to avoid the truth? To be content with _lies_?"

He winced. "Well, when you put it that way... yes, I suppose I am."

"Then I refuse."

"Alright then. That's your choice."

He wants to scream and yell and pull his hair out, do _anything_ to get the farmer to understand, but that wouldn't be very polite, so he doesn't.

Rolf flops down on Double D's couch and rests his hand on his hands. He stares resolutely ahead. "Double D-Ed-Boy?"

"Yes?"

"Were you afraid when you told us the truth?"

"Of course I was. You were pointing silver at me."

"Would you have told us the truth if Rolf hadn't?"

"No." He answered bluntly. "No, I wouldn't have."

"Rolf thought as much. You were afraid, weren't you? Of all of us."

Double D took in a deep breath of air. He stared at the wall. "Before we moved here, my parents made sure to make me aware of the fact that I was... abnormal, and should therefore keep said abnormality under wraps. You know, for my general health and well-being."

Rolf didn't respond. "Rolf is... sorry, Ed-Boy. For being something you had to fear."

"That's life, Rolf. We're always afraid of _something_."

The nervous energy was starting to build up again. Double D pushed it aside. "You have nothing to apologize for, Rolf. The Ed's have always had a certain distance between them and the rest of the Cul-De-Sac kids. We spent most of our childhood at war with each other. It's only appropriate that we'd keep some secrets from each other as well."

"That grudge died out, Ed-Boy. It cannot be used as an excuse. We made you afraid to be yourself, and that just isn't right."

Double D didn't respond. Rolf finally looked up. "Double D-Ed-Boy?"

"I'm f-fine, Rolf. I-It's getting late." Words were becoming harder for him to pronounce. "I'll b-be right back."

"Don't move, Ed-Boy. That will only make it worse."

"D-Don't want you to see." He said, voice resembling a growl. "N-Not pretty."

Rolf didn't answer, pulling the boy into a hug. They slid down to the floor, Double D's back legs growing weak with pain. He might've said more, but Double D was too far gone to understand it.

"You are our friend, Double D-Ed-Boy. We will not judge by looks."

* * *

A magical creature had to be the one to finish the seal. He knew that, even if he didn't know how to put it into an actual thought process.

Once the blood was drawn onto the bark, it, like all the others, started glowing. He knew from personal experience that the glowing would stop before sunrise, having watched the process before. The blood disappeared as well. Why or where was, as he'd said, a mystery.

Eddy sniffed the tree, then started barking at it to see what it would do. Ed, halfway through climbing one himself, jolted and fell with a yelp.

Double D grinned at them, then at the growing sunlight. It was going to be a beautiful day.

And, for once, he didn't feel the familiar panic to race home.

**Author's Note: A really cute and fluffy chapter (not to mention short) to almost end this 'fic. I've still got an epilogue chapter coming out, and I've got an idea for a sequel story dealing with the exact happenings of Double D's transformation and some other things in mind. What do you guys think?**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ed, Edd, 'N Eddy!**

**Title: Chicken Blood**

**Summary: (Werewolf AU) After a strange break-in to Rolf's farm, the kids of Peach Creek investigate a theft of chickens with no real suspects and no real answers. Meanwhile, the time for a special ceremony is drawing near, and a small semi-newly formed pack of wolves are forced to scramble to get things together while also dodging increasingly suspicious friends.**

**Chapter Title: Everybody Else Knows, So Why Not?**

**...**

**kazikamikaze24\- Thanks! This is the epilogue, actually, but I'm hoping to write a sequel sometime in the future (More on that in the bottom notes)**

**...**

Ed always smelled like dirt and gravy. Eddy; metal and old cologne. They were a bit overwhelming at times, but also incredibly familiar.

Those scents, coupled with his own (paper and cleaning supplies) and ball-cap's (sweat and cheap deodorant) are floating around his house. He doesn't notice it at first, but it gets to be too much after his transformation. His packmates- he's used to, but ball-cap feels like an unwanted intruder. Somebody who isn't supposed to be there but _is_.

Ball-cap brought a stick of wood his hairless side would call a bat. The more feral part of him wanted to rip it out of his hands with his teeth. He didn't, though; it wouldn't sit very well with him in the daytime.

His smallest packmate growled at the human. He gave him a warning noise.

"Alright, dorks." Ball-cap grunted- not that he understood- kicking open the back door. "Let's go."

Double D tried to avoid the spotlights littered about the Cul-De-Sac, if only out of habit. Light meant discovery, and discovery meant danger. Old habits tended to die hard. Ed and Eddy ran about with none of his restraint.

"Go on." Ball-cap nudged him with his foot. He didn't budge. "Nobody's gonna hurt ya' if you have some fun."

He didn't take up on the offer. Ball-cap sighed.

"Alright. Baby steps, I guess."

Next stop, the trailer park. Ball-cap leaned against a tree and nodded his approval. He stepped into the open alone and trailed up to the trailer door, his comrades wary of the humans living inside. He hesitantly rested his paw against it, unsure of how to go about rousing them from their den.

The door burst open almost immediately without any further prompting on his part. Blue-hair pulled him into a tight hug with a yell.

"Fluffy!"

"There ya' are, you mutt! We were startin' to get worried 'bout ya'."

"Yeah! Don't go disapearin' on us like that!"

He liked the three hairless girls at night. They feed him and play with him and pet him. He still drew the line at sweaters and collars, though. His day half wouldn't approve.

Long-hair stared at him a long moment. "Hey, Fluffy? Are you really a werewolf?"

"May!"

"What? We all heard 'em; Rolf was organizin' a werewolf hunt and they knocked on our door askin' about Fluffy."

"She... kinda has a point, Lee."

"Ah... shaddup." Curly-hair said halfheartedly.

He perked up at the familiar word 'werewolf.' Oh. Right. He'd come all this way for a reason. Extracting himself from the arms holding him, he raced into the bushes.

He looked around, unable to find what he'd stashed there a few days prior. He'd put it around here somewhere, he swore...

Ed whined at him. His day half's hat was clamped firmly in his jaws, head stretched forward in offering. He yipped and gratefully took it from him, running back to where the hairless girls were. He handed it to Blue-hair, who held it up to examine it better in the moonlight.

It was a full moon tonight, he thought distractedly. He loved the full moon.

"No. Way."

"That makes a lot of sense, actually."

"He coulda told us. We can keep a secret. 'Sides, s'not like anyone woulda believed us anyway."

He didn't answer, reveling in the feeling of the night air in his fur and the feeling of belonging welling up in his chest.

He had a pack now. He had friends. That was more than enough for him.

**Author's Note: It's kind of an abrupt ending, I have to admit, but It's an ending nonetheless. Also, I'd like to mention that Double D and the others can't understand what the kids are saying, just their actions and expressions. This chapter just would've been a lot more difficult to write without the dialogue. **

**I _am_ planning on writing a sequel to this (Also a bit of a prequel; as it'd tell the tale of how Double D became a werewolf and the events occurring soon thereafter) but it's going to be a little while. I've got more multiple chapter stories I'd like to work on before I started on another, so it'll be a few weeks/few months.**

**So... see you guys then? Thanks for reading!**

**-Mandaree1**

**No flames! Don't like don't read! Review!**


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